ellow, all together, whether we will or no--comes to us,
and we stare awhile and then ... shrug our shoulders or bend our knees
or set our jaws, according as we are made.

I like to believe, now, that a dim idea of what was going to happen
was in some mysterious way growing on me before I got the telegram. I
am certain that when the head-waiter touched my arm and told me I was
wanted at the telephone, a curious oppression fell over my hitherto
contented after-dinner spirit which grew into a kind of excitement as
I made my way to the booth. And yet I expected nothing more than to
hear Roger's voice with some reasonable explanation of his failure to
meet me. It was the night porter, however, reading me a telegram
missent to the shore and returned to the club.

"Shall I read it, sir?"

"Yes, Richard, let's have it."

He mumbled the name of a place I had never heard of and went on in the
peculiarly expressionless style consecrated to messages, thus
transmitted.

"_Please bring bag of clothes and razors here will meet
train arriving four thirty Tuesday bring sensible parson
don't fail. Roger._"

I stared at the receiver stupidly. This was Wednesday.

"That's crazy, Richard," I stammered finally, "bring what? Read it
again."

"It's quite plain, sir, except the town," and again the strange
message reached me.

"Well," I managed to get out, "it's clear he wants clothes, anyway.
Tell Hodgson to pack a complete change for Mr. Bradley and his razors.
And see if you can find the name of the place from the chief operator
and the correct message. It can't be parson, of course. And look up
the next train for that place, if you can, Richard. I'll be down there
directly."

I puffed hard at my dying cigar and went slowly back to the veranda,
trying to make sense of that telegram.

"No bad news, I hope?" my companion inquired kindly, for I suppose I
looked worried.

"No," I said slowly, "only an idiotic sort of telegram from Roger. He
wants me to meet him at some place or other at present unknown, and to
bring him his razors and a sensible parson."

My unknown friend burst into a chuckle of laughter.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "you get the razors and I'll attend to the
parson end of it. Any special denomination?"

I paid for our dinner (he had insisted upon paying the cab) and
gathered up my hat and stick.

"It's absurd," I went on, "perhaps he meant 'person,' though what's
the point in that? Anyhow